Cooking Hurts God
by Ionia Metallium-Greywers
Summary: Farf has the house to himself...hmm...what could possibly happen? >^-^


Cooking Hurts God  
  
By: Chibi-chan  
  
A/N: This was written off a blatant idea that shoved its way into my brain while I was looking in my refridgerator for something passable as food. All of the sudden, my brain goes, "My god, our refridgerator smells like ranch dressing." Then that led to a chain of events where I saw purple walls, and then saw a kind of horror movie silhouette thing, and a knife comes down and blood splatters on the purple walls. Then, I got to thinking, "What if Farf had to cook?" And that started it all. Just...don't ask how my brain got all of that from the smell of ranch dressing in our fridge. (BTW, the purple walls inside the Schwarz house is something my imoto Ro-chan told me about. Apparently, Farfie was left by himself in the house, and decided that purple walls inside a place housing guys hurts God very much. ^-^)   
  
Warning: Insanity. Utter, utter insanity. Bad cooking skills on the part of Farf. Mostly because I can't cook either. ^-^;;  
  
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The house was dead silent. Unless you counted the monotonous drip from the kitchen faucet. But I'm talking about human noises. No breathing, no movement, not even so much as a slurping noise when someone took a drink of tea or soda. Absolutely nothing.  
  
That was because no one was home. No one, except...  
  
"YEEE!!!" The squeal exploded from the hallway. Red liquid splattered onto purple walls. This was followed by another squeal of glee at the shiny reddish-purple color created on the wall.   
  
Crawford, Nagi, and Schuldich were gone. And Farfarello had escaped.  
  
"Hm... yes, blood on the walls must hurt God a lot." Farfie's white-topped head bobbed up and down in satisfaction. "Too bad there isn't enough blood to cover the whole wall."  
  
Farfie's stomach growled. and he looked down at it warily. "I feel a little bit hungry..." He brightened a little, and ran to see what was in the glorious cold box that he was half tempted to shut himself inside.  
  
In the big cold storage box, there were many really good-looking things to eat, like Jell-o, and salad, and even a box of--eew, what are *those* doing in there!? Farfie, laughing, looked in the even colder storage box.  
  
Hmm... waffles...dinner fries...ice cream...steak...old, frozen tofu...steak!? Farfarello blinked. Crawford had bought that steak and put it in the freezer, and he even remembered what the scary man in the white suit had told him. "Farfarello, you even go near this steak, and you'll be in a world of hurt!"  
  
"Heh...pain...cool." Farfie grabbed the steak out of the freezer and shut the door.  
  
"Now...how to prepare this stuff..." Farfie looked around. Spotting one of Crawford's cookbooks he had so terribly hidden in an air vent, he grabbed the aforementioned book and proceeded to cook.  
  
"Step one, pour vegetable oil in a skillet..." The white-haired one looked around the kitchen, perplexed. "What is a 'skillet'?" Instead, he grabbed the first cookware that he spotted, which, unfortunately, was a pot, and not a skillet in any sense. "Now, vegetable oil." He knew what that was. He had drank some once. "It tastes bad, so it must hurt God!" Farfie grabbed the bottle out of a lower cabinet, where he had seen Crawford put it earlier.  
  
Farfarello unscrewed the cap and dumped the whole bottle into the pot. "OK, that's done." He let the remains of the vegetable oil drip into his mouth, then dropped the bottle on the floor. "Now what?" He looked at the next step. "Step two, bring the oil to a simmer." Farfie looked at the pot full of vegetable oil. "Simmer? OK." He walked to the stove and turned the nob full blast.  
  
Blue flames jumped out at Farfie, who screamed in glee and grabbed the steak, throwing it into the pot, not bothering with the rest of the steps, because the fire was so pretty. Five minutes later, Farfarello stuck his arm into the pot of burning oil and retrieved the slab of beef. Giggling like a crazed schoolgirl, not minding the blisters popping up on his arms, he threw the not-close-to-done-yet steak on a rather not clean plate and carried it into the dining room, all after turning off the raging inferno on the stove, because the scary man would be mad if scorch marks were left on the pretty purple walls that hurt God so much.  
  
"Eating something this repulsive must hurt God a lot..." Farfarello hummed to himself as he picked up a rather large, sharp cleaving knife. "It must hurt an *awful* lot..."  
  
The door in the living room burst open. "I'm back!!!" Schuldich's nasal voice sang out. Farfie, in a panic, dropped the cleaving knife and ran out of the room, leaving the said knife to stick straight up out of the floor.  
  
Schuldich threw his jacket carelessly on the couch and looked around. "Hello?" he yelled again. "Anyone home?" Getting no answer, the German shrugged.  
  
"Hey...what's that smell?" Schuldich sniffed the air as he walked toward the staircase. "Hmm...smells like...steak!" Curious, the red-haired hentai crept towards the smell. Peering into the dining room, his hopes came true. "It *is* steak!"  
  
Ignoring the rather large cleaving knife stuck in the floor, he crept over to the plate. "Hmm...Crawford must have fixed his steak, and then didn't have time to eat it, cause he had to run off or something. There's no fork or knife..." Schuldich picked up the steak. "Doesn't look too good, but...it smells fine." Raising his head to face the ceiling, he slowly dropped the undercooked, overall nasty steak into his mouth.  
  
And choked.  
  
"BLEARGH!!!!!" Schuldich spat the steak out onto the floor. "Mein gott, that's disgusting!!! Crawford can't cook worth shit!" Still cleaning his tongue with a napkin, he stalked into the kitchen to find something to wash the god-awful taste out of his mouth. "I'm never eating his cooking *ever* again! Not even if he leaves it there to tempt me!"  
  
Farfarello pouted from the hallway. "My God-hurting meal..." He smirked. "Oh well. The German ate it...partially," he added with a glance to the chewed up beefy mess on the floor. "I bet that still hurt God a little... but I'm still hungry..." Farfie pondered, and thought, and mused, and pondered some more. Then, he got the wonderful idea in his poor misused little head to raid Nagi's room for food. Let's just hope the little telepath doesn't start throwing things at Farfie when he returns. (Not like Farfie would care anyway...)  
  
--owari-- 


End file.
